


Something About You

by kalopsia (girltalk)



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Awkward Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-31 23:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girltalk/pseuds/kalopsia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hoya loses his voice, Sungyeol loses his mind. Except it's not as bad as it sounds. Except, alright, it probably is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something About You

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on [livejournal](http://kalopsia.livejournal.com/7036.html)

Sungyeol always figured, if anyone in Infinite were to lose their voice, then it’d be Sungkyu. If not from his constant shrieks during practice for them to keep going, harder, faster, stronger. Then at least for the fact he’s made to sing like he’s just swallowed helium in half the songs they promote. Sungyeol restrains himself from ever telling Sungkyu this outright though, because hey, what does he know?  
  
Just at that moment, Sungkyu yells at him to snap out of it, and Sungyeol kind of wishes that it was Sungkyu who’d lost his voice. Instead, Hoya is sitting on the couch with a surly frown on his face, picking at the edge of the armrest agitatedly. Woohyun is talking to the phone to their manager, and all Sungyeol can make out from the conversation is  _“Hmm. Okay. Cool. No, that’s fine. I’ll tell him.”_  They were a  _boy band_ , and Sungyeol is a little wary that one of their members losing their voice wasn’t more of a big deal. At the very least he expected to hear some kind of loud enraged spiel permeating through the phone.  
  
“Cool,” Woohyun says, hanging up.  
  
“Well,” Hoya asks, his voice hoarse and raspy.  
  
“It’s fine,” Woohyun says, “we’ll just split your lines. No big deal!” He assures, giving Hoya a transparently strained smile.  
  
Dongwoo clasps a hand on Hoya’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “No worries. We wrote the raps together, I already know it.” He kicks his legs giddily, punching a fist in the air. “Alright, it’s going to be a Dongwoo show!”  
  
“Like it hell it will,” Sungkyu says, “you’re splitting the lines.”  
  
“With who?” Hoya asks, his voice cracking at the end. Sungkyu hushes him and ushers a warm bottle of water into his hands, demanding he drink.  
  
“Um,” Woohyun begins. “Sungyeol.”  
  
In Sungyeol’s ideal world, there’d be a resounding awkward silence interrupted by him expressing his utter alarm with a croaked  _“Huh?”_. The obligatory  _’No, it’s fine Sungyeol,’ ‘It’s only for a few days, Sungyeol! et cetera, et cetera',_  would naturally follow, and then everyone would disperse and Sungyeol would be left alone to wallow in his own apprehensive thoughts. Of course, life offers him no such reprieve and Hoya throws the water bottle back at Sungkyu’s chest, and looks like the mere suggestion of Sungyeol taking his lines completely trivialised his entire existence. Which, if Sungyeol was being honest with himself, it sort of did.  
  
_”Why?,”_  Sungkyu blanches.  _Why_. Sungyeol thinks that’s a bit unfair. Wasn’t Sungkyu supposed to uphold some pretence of objectivity as leader? Wait. No, of course not. Then he wouldn’t be Sungkyu.  
  
“Equal exposure, unveiling hidden talent, you know,” Woohyun explains, trying to make the reason seem remotely convincing.  
  
Sungkyu remains silent, doing his leaderly duty and possibly attempting to conjure up some words of reassurance. He lifts himself up from the couch and flicks Sungyeol on the forehead. “Well then. Looks like it’s your time to shine,” he says, smiling amusedly at Sungyeol before grabbing Woohyun by the arm and leading him out of the room. The two of them talking in what they think are hushed voices but Sungyeol can distinctly make out  _’...So long as he just talks fast.'_  
  
Dongwoo starts making some flimsy excuse to leave the room, which eventually turns into incomprehensible babble, and he ends up just scurrying out the door to escape the tension.  
  
That’s if there was any tension. Sungyeol realises Hoya hasn’t actually said anything towards Sungyeol since the phonecall. To his credit, he no longer looks offended, and his body is simply slumped into the couch lower than it was before.  
  
“So. Do we meet up for some swag lessons?” Sungyeol asks, nudging Hoya’s foot.  
  
“Not if you ever call them swag lessons again,” Hoya says. He stands up and rolls his neck, the cracking of his bones audible. “How’s now?”  
  
Sungyeol can respond with little more than an “Eh.” Hoya looks at him for a coherent answer and Sungyeol clears his throat. “I don’t think I can,” he amends.  
  
“Why not?” Hoya questions, rather airily. Sungyeol isn’t sure if it’s because his voice is no longer capable of sounding accusatory without breaking, or if he’s really completely detached to whether or not Sungyeol can make time for him.  
  
“To be honest, I just don’t want to,” Sungyeol answers with a shrug.  
  
Hoya sighs. “I expected as much,” he murmurs. He slaps Sungyeol’s arm and walks past him. “We’ll do it tomorrow or something.”  
  
When Sungyeol is finally alone he lets himself fall onto the couch, bending his legs awkwardly behind the armrest to constrict himself into the vertical space. There’s probably some profound metaphor in there that’d resonate with how Sungyeol's living his life thus far, but he can’t bring himself to think about it. Instead he thinks back to the last few weeks and wonders if he’d managed to provoke the manager in someway. There’d been the time he’d skipped dance practice? Or maybe it was when he’d conned the Manager-hyung out of twenty dollars that he’d spent on getting a new piercing? Or that prank he’d pulled to make Manager-hyung think he’d ran over Sungjong whilst reversing? Sungyeol finds the train of thought becoming entirely redundant, and supposes that the entire situation was like broccoli. Probably good for him, but while he’s chewing it and forcing it down, he has no idea why.  
  
“Broccoli?” Woohyun’s amused voice breaks through his apparently verbal monologue, followed by a pillow.  
  
“Shut up,” Sungyeol mutters, turning around and pressing his face into the scratchy corduroy.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
As expected, there’s only really so much for Sungyeol to do when he’s trying to substitute for half a rap verse. Nonetheless, him and Hoya are in the practice room late at night. Sungyeol memorises the lyrics and rhythm in less than fifteen minutes  _’actors reflexes'_ , is what he calls it. The primary problem comes with Sungyeol’s face.  
  
“Aggressive,” Hoya says. “Be assertive!”  
  
Sungyeol bares his teeth at the mirror and tries again, lunging forward and beating a hand against his chest.  
  
“Be aggressive in how you move, but soft in how you approach them,” Hoya explains, moving his hands in a wave like it actually effectively portrayed anything he was saying.  
  
“That makes no sense!” Sungyeol says, raising his voice for no other reason other than to remind Hoya of what he doesn’t have. In the hour that they’ve been practicing, him and Hoya had successfully fallen on opposite sides of a silent cross-fire. Hoya’s part was literally only fifteen seconds long, and Sungyeol’s designated section was less than half of that. The nitpicking only began after the manager had come down to tell them that Hoya would definitely still be performing with them for the next few days and that they didn’t have time to readjust the choreography.  
  
“Wait? So I just stand on stage dancing and not say a word?” Hoya said.  
  
Sungyeol took a sip from his water bottle and leaned against the wall. “Welcome to my life.”  
  
He had no idea why his own self-deprecation would offend Hoya so much, but apparently it had. Because he’d been splitting hairs over the angle of Sungyeol’s smirk for the last ten minutes.  
  
“Okay,” Sungyeol says, halting and glaring at Hoya. “This is just getting ridiculous. We’re the same age, you have no authority over me.”  
  
Hoya doesn’t give him anything more than a blink. “I wasn’t aware I was asserting any.”  
  
“I... tell me, am I really doing that terribly?” Sungyeol asks, it comes out pleading and desperate. “Like, does it technically matter if my bottom lip curls into my teeth or not?”  
  
Hoya thins his lips and thinks over the question for a bit. “Alright, do you want brutal honesty or friendly reassurance.”  
  
“Do I have a choice,” Sungyeol asks.  
  
“No,” Hoya states. “No one really expects you to be any good at this, so  _technically_ , nothing matters.” Sungyeol really hates how effete Hoya’s voice sounds at the moment. Pressed low into just above a whisper, it was as if Hoya was divulging the greatest secret Sungyeol was about to hear in his life. Entirely misleading.  
  
Sungyeol flinches. “Yeah, thanks for that. You know, I actually don’t think I’m that bad.”  
  
Hoya opens his mouth to retort, and then closes it again looking at Sungyeol staidly. “Hold on, are you being serious right now?”  
  
“I’m being completely serious,” Sungyeol says, “Did you not hear my poetic utterance of the prose in Cover Girl?”  
  
“Riiight,” Hoya says, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head. He turns to pack up the CD player, so Sungyeol presumes he officially deems their little practice session done. “I don’t get you,” Hoya mutters, shaking his head. “You’re so confusing.”  
  
“What’s there to get?” Sungyeol asks, following Hoya out the door. Waiting for him as he locks up the practice room.  
  
“You’re 183cm but act like you’re half of that,” Hoya elaborates, pocketing the keys into his jeans and walking forward. Sungyeol hadn’t realised how late it had gotten. The streets are desolate as they make their way back to the van, their manager singing along to ‘Bubble Pop’ in the front seat under the false impression that no one was looking. “I don’t know man. I just can’t see anybody else being okay with that.”  
  
“I feel like the conversation we’re having now is years delayed. Hello? Hoya. How long have you known me for?” Sungyeol says. “I feel like we should have had this talk years ago while lying on our respective bunk beds.”  
  
“Yeah... I’ll leave that to you and Myungsoo while the two of you paint your toenails or something.” Hoya says. “Anyway,” he continues, “I forget we’re the same age sometimes. It’s kind of hard to just sit back and watch.”  
  
As if to reiterate his last point, Hoya opens the door to the front seat of the van, surprising their manager, and climbs in like he's entitled. Sungyeol is about to protest when something hits him hard.  
  
Was Hoya trying to do him a favour?  
  
Holy shit. Was Hoya really that bad at doing people favours?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungyeol’s moment in the limelight goes as expected. Netizens think it’s laughable, his own fans think it’s laughable, Sungkyu actually laughs while monitoring one of the broadcasts. The grass is green, the sky is blue, life goes on. Hoya regains his voice and there’s a unanimous sigh of relief amongst everyone, and Sungyeol goes back to humming his one line to himself while he’s washing the dishes that Sungkyu forced upon him despite the fact it wasn’t his turn. Normalcy comes easy, Sungyeol thinks.  
  
“Hey,” Hoya says, slapping Sungyeol’s back with a teatowel. He falls into step beside Sungyeol and begins drying the plates as he finishes washing them.  
  
“Are you taking over for Woohyun or something?” Sungyeol asks, rinsing off a dish.  
  
Hoya laughs, “No. It’s actually my turn to dry.”  
  
“Oh,” Sungyeol states. Hoya continues drying the dishes mechanically beside him, and Sungyeol fidgets with the steel wool around his fingers. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone, but talking to Hoya suddenly felt like it had to be an intentional premeditated chore. Just simple casual conversation felt so anti-climatic. He scours his mind for something to say, irrationally feeling pressured by the fact Hoya didn’t seem to think the silence was bated at all. Sungyeol settles on “It’s nice to hear your voice again.” Which wouldn’t have sounded as strange if Hoya hadn’t had his voice back for four days now.  
  
Hoya pinches his face and looks over at Sungyeol. “What?” he asks.  
  
“Um,” Sungyeol begins. “Yeah... I don’t know. That one had no excuse.” He fumbles with the plate in his hands. It accidentally slips through his fingers and into the dishwater. “Shit.”  
  
“Hey Sungyeol,” Hoya says, clicking his fingers in front of his face.  
  
“What? What?” Sungyeol snaps, irritated at himself for no reason. He turns to face Hoya and freezes when he sees how close the other had gotten in the mere ten seconds he’d looked away.  
  
Sungyeol feels his pulse thrumming and the body heat radiates of Hoya in waves. He squeezes his eyes shut waiting for the impact. There’s a ghost of a touch over his eyelids and when he dares open them, Hoya is standing in front of him with a thin eyelash between his thumb and forefinger, and a look of absolute bewilderment on his face.  
  
“Okay,” Hoya says gravely, wiping his hands on the tea towel and frowning. “That... you weren’t meant to do that.”  
  
Sungyeol takes a moment to consider how aggravating he finds Hoya at this moment. “What-- you’re the one who-- You make no sense!”  
  
“I was just testing it out and-- alright,” Hoya takes a deep breath, puffing up his cheeks and exhaling. “Are we going to have to talk about this?”  
  
“There’s  _nothing_  to talk about!” Sungyeol says, inwardly cringing when it comes out as a squeak.  
  
“Alright then. I’m glad,” Hoya says nodding. He throws the tea towel into the cabinet, looking at the unclean dishes in the sink. He clears his throat. “I was lying, it wasn’t really my turn.”  
  
“It wasn’t my turn either,” Sungyeol rushes out, “So we don’t--”  
  
“Yeah, like we don’t have to finish it up right. I mean, it’s not even our responsibility.”  
  
Sungyeol clicks his fingers. “Precisely! So I’m going to go to my room and--”  
  
“I have... things to do,” Hoya states. “So I’ll just. Bye.” He walks off with a small wave, rubbing his wet hands along the sides of his sweats.  
  
“Yeah, bye!” Sungyeol calls walking away, attempting to imitate the other’s indifference but ending up bumping into the fridge.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
This is what Sungyeol does to further reinforce the false notion Hoya currently held about what was between them.  
  
(And an entirely false notion it is. Sungyeol knows it’s entirely false because he stays up the night before, breathing steadily into his pillow, and thinks through what about Hoya could illicit any kind of unconventional emotion from him. This is what he comes up with:  
  
Nothing.  
  
Literally nothing. He realises he knows next to nothing about Hoya apart from the fact he’s hilariously two-faced in his self-proclaimed manhood, and that he leaves his iPod playing music that Sungyeol really dislikes before going to sleep.)  
  
He slides up to Hoya in the backseat of the van. Very inconveniently stepping over Myungsoo, his long legs accidentally knocking into the break in the chairs, almost elbowing Woohyun in the face, before squeezing himself in next to Hoya. Who, to his credit, spares Sungyeol little more than a glance before resting his head against the window and turning up the volume of his iPod. Sungkyu does a headcount, and when he absorbs where Sungyeol is sitting, does a double take.  
  
“Hey, did I punish you for something by forcing you to sit in the backseat? Because sometimes I forget.” Sunkyu asks.  
  
Hoya slides a hand over his mouth, scrolling through his music library.  
  
“Nope,” Sungyeol chirps.  
  
“Alright...” Sungkyu says. “Just making sure.”  
  
They drive for fifteen minutes in silence, Hoya resting his chin on his knuckles, Sungyeol trying to force a sleepy Sungjong into conversation. He steals furtive glances towards Hoya every now and then, subtly judging the right time to initiate conversation. Or, he believes it to be subtle until Hoya sighs and slides his headphones down to his neck, giving Sungyeol a look that’s halfway between a resigned  _’Can I help you?’_  and a chary  _‘Please stop staring at me.’_  
  
Sungyeol, being who he is, responds with an audacious, “Hm? What’s up?”  
  
“Is this part of your new routine to express your absolute platonic affection towards me?” Hoya asks, smiling deceivingly at Sungkyu who was eyeing the two warily from the front seat.  
  
Sungyeol makes a face towards Sungkyu before turning back to Hoya. “You know, I was just thinking about it last night—“  
  
“Alright,” Hoya interrupts, lifting the headphones back up, “I really don’t want to know.”  
  
Sungyeol scowls and forcefully pulls the headphones down. “ _Listen._  I’m not depraved or anything.”  
  
Hoya nods. “Yeah, okay.”  
  
“No seriously,” Sungyeol assures. “I was just thinking about  _us_.”  
  
“Are you listening to yourself?”  
  
“And I figured, for friends we aren’t as friendly as we could be.” Sungyeol finishes. Hoya looks at him with bored expectancy, and it takes Sungyeol a moment to realize that the other was waiting for the final crutch or something. “Uh… yeah. That’s it.”  
  
“Okay, and?” Hoya presses.  
  
“I… don’t know. Truthfully, I just felt this need to tell you.”  
  
Hoya raises his eyebrows in a way that makes the hustle bustle of the traffic outside suddenly fall into a humdrum drone. Sungyeol feels his ears redden around the edges, as if the whole world was in on this conversation and were simultaneously chortling and clinking their over-sized wine glasses at his general ineptitude.  
  
Hoya slides the headphones over his ears again, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. “You just did not think this through, did you?”  
  
Sungyeol rubs a hand down his faces. “Yeah,” he murmurs into his palms. “I really didn’t.”  
  
He’s thankful when the van comes to a halt -- Hoya not squeezing in any last words as they disembark the vehicle. However, as soon as they’re making a beeline for MBC studios, Myungsoo predictably falls into step beside Sungyeol with a perplexed frown on his face.  
  
“What was that?” Myungsoo asks.  
  
“What was what?” Sungyeol says, only half-feigning the ignorance.  
  
“Crossing the tallest mountains and widest plains just so you could sit and talk to Hoya,” Myungsoo elaborates. “Did something happen?”  
  
“The only other free seat was directly behind Sungkyu. I’d rather fall off the tallest mountains.” Sungyeol scoffs. He steals a glance behind him, catching Hoya walking forward with his arm slung comfortably over Sungjong’s shoulder, and looks away quickly. Not fast enough for Myungsoo not to notice though and offering Sungyeol a stare that bores into him.  
  
“Don’t look so attentive. It doesn’t suit you,” Sungyeol snaps.  
  
“So random,” Myungsoo mumbles.  
  
“How is it  _random_? We’re in the same band. And what do you mean random? What’s even there to be random?” Sungyeol cuts himself off before he begins rambling.  
  
Myungsoo smirks at him, lopsided and knowing. Like he was in on some grand joke that Sungyeol was excluded from. Which, all things considered, was probably the case.  
  
“Hoya thinks you’re a better dancer than me, you know?” Myungsoo says. “He told me himself.”  
  
Sungyeol can’t stop the swelling that occurs in the cavity of his chest, restraining himself from looking over his shoulder. “So?”  
  
Myungsoo shrugs. “Just thought you’d want to know.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Sungyeol has never seen ‘Answer Me 1997’. He’s never thought twice of it before. No one has ever called him out on it – not even when a good 9.47% of the South Korea was reliving their first heartbreak through Hoya’s quiet self-possession as Kang Joon Hee. For a while it’s hard not to hear good things about it, with people stopping them in the middle of hallways to bow to Hoya and sing their praises. Then the buzz fades, and although the success still lives in the buoyancy of Hoya’s walk and condenses into a dark cloud over Sungyeol – it’s becomes easy to pretend he never missed out on anything.  
  
He steals Sungkyu’s laptop in the middle of the night, and against the darkness the light from the LCD screen makes Sungyeol wince. He checks the volume on the laptop quickly, bringing it down as low as possible, but Hoya’s voice still reverberates much too loudly through the earphones.  
  
He watches all sixteen episodes in three nights and only Myungsoo takes notes of the bags weighing down Sungyeol’s eyes. And from his smug leer Sungyeol is sure Myungsoo has the wrong idea anyway.  
  
He doesn’t knock when coming into Hoya’s room, but instantly regrets it when he’s standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor and Hoya continues giving his laptop his undivided attention. Sungyeol clears his throat and Hoya looks up.  
  
“Hey?” Hoya says, leaning back on the swivel chair.  
  
“Um, hey,” Sungyeol replies. He looks towards the sheet music strewn haphazardly over the desk. “Are you working on lyrics?”  
  
“I was – I got kind of distracted by… other things,” Hoya says, quickly minimizing the window on his laptop, but Sungyeol still catches the flash of skin and sand. Really, what’s he mean to say to that?  
  
“I watched your drama,” Sungyeol blurts out. That’s what, apparently.  
  
Hoya doesn’t stutter. “Half the country has watched my drama.” There’s no arrogance nor humbleness when he speaks – it’s something Sungyeol has come to recognise as Hoya’s brand of no-frills attached honesty.  
  
“Yeah, I just…”  
  
“Just letting me know?” Hoya finishes.  
  
“Something like that,” Sungyeol murmurs, shuffling out the door. Hoya doesn’t pry or pretend to be interested, instead turning back to his laptop and waiting for the click of the bedroom door before reopening his windows.  
  
Sungyeol flops down onto his bed and brings a limp hand up to fiddle with his piercings. Personally, he thinks Kang Joon Hee is only a few notches away from being a coward, and that Hoya is just an  _okay_  actor.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
(This is in brackets because in Sungyeol’s mind it adds little more than an illusion of drama that never was.  
  
Him and Hoya spent time together once before, only due there being no one else around and Sungyeol’s allusive but distinct need for a hand to hold. Metaphorically, of course. But that doesn’t stop Hoya from ribbing him about it as they sit outside the audition room. Sungyeol twists his long fingers against each other, strings of rote-learnt lines spilling from his lips. Hoya looks bored, his face directed towards the ceiling fan and letting it flutter the thin strands of his fringe.  
  
Sungyeol pokes him in the side with his script. “Hey, how’s my satoori?” he asks, hardening his voice and trying to recall the marks of intonation  
  
Hoya’s nose twitches. “My people would be disgusted.” he replies, his dialect clear cut and perfect. Life is unfair, Sungyeol thinks. He lets out a strangled cry and Hoya looks at him sympathetically. “Hey man. Does it really matter about the accent?”  
  
Sungyeol grimaces. “Apparently. I mean, if my acting is good enough they can probably forego it. But I’ll probably be seen on the same par as a mediocre actor with a perfect accent.”  
  
“Really?” Hoya says, eyes widening. “Is this thing set in Busan or something?”  
  
“Yeah,” Sungyeol answers. Just then their Manager appears and calls his name.  
  
“Good luck,” Hoya says, lolling his head back towards the fan again.  
  
Sungyeol smiles. “Thanks.” He lets his Manager usher him through the door, the PD and casting director were waiting on the other side, their heads huddled together, evaluating the audition right before Sungyeol.  
  
Their Manager stops abruptly, catching Sungyeol’s elbow and pulling him back. Sungyeol turns around to ask what the matter was, but the Manager was faced towards Hoya with an amused glint in his eyes.  
  
“Hey Hoya,” he calls, and Hoya snaps his head forward. “Since we’re here anyway, why don’t you audition? Use that headache inducing accent for good.”  
  
Sungyeol feels like a piddling weight in his managers grip. Hoya shrugs, stuffing his hands inside his pockets and lifting himself off the chair.  
  
“Sure, whatever. It’ll be a hilarious story to tell on shows.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The call comes three weeks later during dinner. Sungyeol takes a bite of his ddukbokki and it’s sour. As used to as he is of being a passive presence, this feels a little different.)  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Every morning at 6am Hoya slips into an oversized hoodie, puts on his trainers, and runs a block to a dilapidated corner shop where he buys a bottle of orange juice before doing three laps around the local park. On the way back he cuts through the grass and returns to the dorms at 7:30am, just early enough to walk in on Sungjong grumbling about Woohyun’s snoring being able to pierce through walls.  
  
The first time Sungyeol follows at 6:45am he gets lost, takes a wrong turn just before the park, and accidentally crosses into someone’s backyard and is promptly assaulted by the sprinklers. He comes back home at 8:30am, late for schedule, but just early enough for Sungkyu to laugh at his drenched state before reprimanding him. Although usually Sungyeol would bite back with some off-hand remark which would earn him a flick to the forehead; this time he can’t muster up more than a shrug before dragging his feet over to their room to change into proper attire.  
  
Sungkyu follows him, leaning against the doorframe as Sungyeol grabs an outfit off the rack -- the exact same one he’d worn the day before. He’s about to slip off his shirt when he notices Sungkyu still observing him, a thinly suppressed smile crinkling his lips.  
  
“What?” Sungyeol asks, glancing down at his flat stomach; a by-product of his motivation leaving him after working to create a six-pack created no indiscretable difference in his life. Sungkyu carries little interest in his white skin and instead keeps looking determinedly at Sungyeol’s face.  
  
“Want to talk?” he finally says.  
  
Sungyeol frowns and pulls down his shirt. “No.” he says curtly.  
  
“Brat,” Sungkyu scoffs, turning on his heels.  
  
Sungyeol sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Hyung!” he calls. Sungkyu stops and turns around.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk. Now you may leave.” Sungyeol says, beckoning towards the door.  
  
Sungkyu snorts and rolls his eyes, stalking out to the living room again. Sungyeol sticks his tongue out when he thinks Sungkyu isn’t looking and goes back to struggling into his clothes.  
  
“Take the turn two blocks after the corner shop, and  _then_  turn right.”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The second time Sungyeol follows he gives himself a fifteen minute grace period in case he manages to get lost again, and arrives at the park a good twenty minutes before Hoya does. Hoya passes by the tree Sungyeol is hiding behind without a break in his run; breathing focused and purposeful as his feet pound the bitumen below. Once a good few metres distance fall between them, Sungyeol peeks out behind the trunk and steps onto the footpath grimacing. The edges of his socks were moist from standing in the dewy grass for too long -- the things he does for an ambiguous-emotion-he-can’t-bring-himself-to-label.  
  
Sungyeol adjusts his scarf and sunglasses before jogging lightly behind Hoya, looking down at the asphalt to obscure his face. He counts ten steps before his chest bumps into something warm and hard.  
  
Hoya looks less than surprised as he gives Sungyeol a questioning up and down. Sungyeol swallows, fidgeting under Hoya’s blatant scrutiny.  
  
“Sup?" he greets. Completely appropriate.  
  
Hoya bites the inside of his cheek, as if he was holding in his words. Sort of a foreign action on him, if Sungyeol was being real.  
  
“Okay,” Hoya resolves, “will I have any luck in you being able to eloquently elaborate on what the heck you’re doing.”  
  
Sungyeol needs to physically restrain himself from looking down, crossing his feet, and circling his toe on the ground. “Probably not.”  
  
Hoya sucks in a thin strand of morning air, twisting his lips and looking past Sungyeol in thought. “Alright, how about this. For the last few weeks or so, you’ve been acting like you’re begrudgingly infatuated with me.”  
  
Sungyeol doesn’t have time to be taken aback by the bluntless, lost in his own thoughts, he simply nods airily. “Yeah... that sounds about right.”  
  
He’s waiting for Hoya to shake his head and continue running without looking back. Maybe ignore him and give him the cold shoulder for a month or so until they dissolve into comfortable awkwardness and Sungyeol’s feeling-things dissipate. What Hoya does instead is look at Sungyeol critically, like he was trying find the value in a particularly abstract piece of art. It makes his skin prickle and, fuck it, Sungyeol starts drawing random shapes in the concrete with his sneakered toe.  
  
“So you want to be friends?” Hoya says.  
  
Sungyeol furrows his eyebrows. “No, did you just not hear me. Don’t make me say it again.”  
  
“You didn’t say anything, cop out,” Hoya snips. “You’re so weird. Sometimes it’s like you just do or say or feel things and even you have no idea why.”  
  
“That actually sounds like a very accurate summary of my life,” Sungyeol agrees. “Very introspective of you.”  
  
Hoya looks down at his watch and counts the minutes. “Fourty minutes. Come on, let’s go get coffee,” he says, jogging away from Sungyeol to the other side of the park.  
  
“What?” Sungyeol says, looking up at Hoya’s retreating form. “This is so anti-climatic!”  
  
“The best relationships start out in Coffee Shops. I’m not having this talk while you’re half-asleep and sweaty. Strangely endearing as it is.” Hoya calls back nonchalantly, though Sungyeol doesn’t miss the way he starts running a bit faster.  
  
Sungyeol smirks, arms and legs flailing in his sloppy run as he tries to catch up. “You think I’m endearing?” he pants.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hoya comes back from his morning run a week later with two cups of coffee in hand. One he downs in an impressive go as soon as he’s through the door, the other he slides towards Sungyeol as he’s close to falling asleep in his cereal.  
  
“Thanks,” Sungyeol croaks, taking a sip of the bitter caffeine and smiling sleepily at Hoya, who raises a dismissive hand before sitting opposite him.  
  
Myungsoo walks past the scene, shaking his head amusedly. “So random,” he murmurs.  
  
Sungyeol slams a palm on the table, gaping at Myungsoo incredulously. “How? It’s just coffee! Fuck you! You’re random!”  
  
Hoya chuckles. “You know, in retrospect it is pretty random.”  
  
Sungyeol bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly towards him. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”  
  
Hoya reaches over with a spoon and steals some of Sungyeol’s cereal, chewing pensively before swallowing and going; “Well--”  
  
“Okay, I feel like somewhere along the line you’re going to have to learn to just not answer anything I ask,” Sungyeol interrupts, pouting down at his soggy breakfast.

**Author's Note:**

> 5k of me justifying hoyeol being a thing, my favourite obscure pairing <3


End file.
